


In the Wake of the Storm

by Lavendergaia



Series: Places Where We Dare Not Speak Verse [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, there are even less zombies in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 06:38:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3681810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavendergaia/pseuds/Lavendergaia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weeks after settling in the UK, Fitz brings Jemma to reunite with his mother.</p><p>Sequel to Places Where We Dare Not Speak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Wake of the Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wolfsongblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfsongblue/gifts).



> Written for my Follower Milestone Fanfic Giveaway! Thanks to ruthedotcom for the beta.

Jemma threaded her fingers through Fitz’s as the ten minute notice for the Glasgow station rang through the train cabin. All around them, passengers were moving to get baggage, calm children, and talking on cell phones to alert their rides. Fitz just leaned over and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “We’re almost there,” he said. 

Even after two weeks on a boat with just Hunter and a handful of other passengers, neither of them were particularly fond of excess traveling. At least on the boat, there was the opportunity to get outside, look out at the horizon; there was a sense of freedom and sometimes they could fool themselves into thinking that that freedom actually existed. Both Fitz’s mother and Jemma’s parents had offered to pay for plane tickets to Glasgow, but neither of them had considered it. The idea of being in a metal box in the sky with no possible means of escape for any amount of time had made panic seize Jemma’s heart. The train wasn’t much better, but at least it was on the ground. 

As the train pulled into the station, Fitz and Jemma grabbed the duffle bags at their feet. They had become excellent at packing light. With Jemma’s purse already over her shoulder, they managed to be two of the first off the train, avoiding the throng of people all trying to disembark in Glasgow. Clinging to each other’s hands in fear of losing one another, Fitz led them through the busy station to the place he’d agreed upon to meet his mother.

Lenore Fitz had curly blonde hair and blue eyes, though they were a different shade than her son’s. She seemed torn between yelling and crying when she spotted Fitz, waving her hands over the passing travelers. It was only when he reached his mother’s side did he release Jemma’s hand, leaning over to hug his mother. Lenore hung on to her son as if she was scared he would vanish within her arms and Jemma couldn’t blame her; it was one of her own recurring nightmares.

“My boy,” she murmured, stroking his hair. “Oh, my boy.” Fitz murmured something quietly into her ear and she nodded, rubbing his back. Lenore kissed his cheek a few times and there were tears in her eyes when she released him. When she turned to Jemma, there was a smile on her face. “You must be Jemma. The girl who saved my son.”

Fitz reached over and stroked the back of Jemma’s neck with his thumb as she stared at him. She wondered if she would ever be able to look at him without feeling like her heart would burst. “He saved me too.” Swallowing hard, she smiled at his mum. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Fitz.”

“Oh, now, none of that,” Lenore said, easing Jemma over for a hug. “It’s either Lenore or Mum, I won’t accept any this ‘Mrs. Fitz’ stuff.”

Initially freezing under the other woman’s touch, Jemma felt herself relax enough to hug back. She reminded herself that the hand rubbing her back was friendly, not threatening; welcoming, not lethal. “Thank you.” 

It wasn’t a very long drive to Lenore’s flat and if she was surprised that Fitz sat in the backseat with Jemma, she didn’t show it. It wasn’t a large space: there were two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a kitchen attached to an open common area that was supposed to function for living and dining. The place was fastidiously kept. Jemma couldn’t be sure if it had been straightened up for their arrival or if Lenore was normally a model housekeeper, but the later certainly wasn’t a trait that had been passed on to her offspring. 

As Fitz took her duffle bag to the guest room, Jemma looked around the room. She hoped her expression was simply one of curiosity and didn’t show how she was counting the windows, looking at how many locks were on the doors and how easy they would be the break. It was a habit that made her a bit sick to her stomach, but it helped knowing that Fitz was doing the exact same thing in the other room.

“How do you take your tea, dear?” Lenore called from the kitchen. 

The size of the kitchen mimicked the rest of the flat, but it had been decorated well enough that one could call it cozy. “Bit of milk and sugar,” she said, walking in behind her to help carry the cups to the table. “And I do mean a bit, not twelve bits like your son.”

Chuckling, Lenore nodded knowingly. “Never could break him of that sweet tooth. I actually bought his favorite biscuits, if you want to grab the box from the cupboard there.” The kettle whistled and Lenore set to putting the cups together as Jemma pulled the biscuits down. She wasn’t sure if she should put them on a plate, so she just waited until Fitz’s tea was done and carried the cup and biscuits to the small table. 

“Oh, I love those,” Fitz said when he spotted the box, taking it from her outstretched out.

“So I’ve heard,” she said with a smirk, settling down in one of the chairs and putting his tea in front of him. She wound both of her legs around his under the table, relaxing at the contact and he smiled at her.

Carrying Jemma’s cup and her own, Lenore took the chair on Fitz’s other side. “Sweetheart, before I forget, do you remember Professor Hall? He was one of your mentors when you were getting your PhD.”

“Yeah, of course.” Fitz took a sip of tea before tangling his fingers through Jemma’s, using one hand to eat biscuits while she held on to the other. It wasn’t a completely unusual eating habit for them, but Jemma noticed a flicker of uneasiness in Lenore’s eye. 

“I was having dinner with my girlfriends over by the university and I ran into him. We got to talking about you, of course, what else would we have to talking about? I told him that you had been doing a project in Africa—” Jemma and Fitz quickly exchanged a look and Lenore huffed. “I know what I’m supposed to say, alright! You finished your project in Africa, but now you can’t go back to your job in the States for obvious reasons.”

Fitz and Jemma had created a complicated backstory to account for how they met and where they had been during the virus’ outbreak—as well as to why there were no records of this backstory, other than what they had managed to get Skye to produce. The story they’d told their parents to tell people was simple: they’d been working on separate projects related to their fields in Africa (anything more specific they were likely to forget) but had to come back to the UK after the epidemic, leaving their homes, jobs, and everything else behind. 

“Dr. Hall said that you should ring him up while you’re in town, come by his office for a chat. Said he might be able to help you out with some sort of position or something in your field, he’s always been a reference for you before,” Lenore said, taking one of the cookies from the box.

Jemma’s hands went limp against the table, but Fitz’s grip tightened around her. “Actually, Mum, Jemma’s parents know the headmaster of a girls’ school where she’s from. They were looking to start her there teaching sciences, probably A-levels.” He looked over at her, smiling proudly and she took a sip of her tea to avoid responding with any sort of facial expression.

Frowning, Lenore said, “And what will you be doing?”

“Not sure yet,” he said with half a biscuit in his mouth. “Jemma’s cousin’s friend has a garage, said he could try me out as a mechanic while I look for other things.”

“Leopold Fitz, you have a PhD—”

“Jemma has two PhDs.”

“—you cannot be a mechanic!” Lenore said, obviously outraged by the very idea. “You need to be at a company or back at a university, doing important work! The world needs a mind like yours to fix all the things in the world that’s wrong with it, like this abominable zombie plague!”

Jemma’s back instantly stiffened at her words. She focused her eyes on the table, counting out the digits of pi in as she willed her eyes not to fill with tears. Fitz laced his fingers through hers, pressing their palms together tightly. “Look, Mum, we don’t even know if Hall can offer anything. I’ll call him tomorrow and see him if he’s got time, but let’s not get our hopes up about anything. I’m glad that I’ve got at least one opportunity until I can find something that definitely fits me.” His thumb stroked the back of her hand and she felt like she could begin to breathe again.

Across the table from her, Lenore sipped her tea loudly. “Fair enough. Now, enough with the biscuits, you’ll ruin your dinner.” 

“I’m starving, actually,” he said, a tad louder than necessary. “We’ve been traveling all day and didn’t really get to eat on the train.” That wasn’t true; Jemma never let them leave the house without packing nonperishable snacks now and they had specifically brought sandwiches for lunch. Fitz had eaten his entire prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella sandwich and the part of hers that she couldn’t finish.  

Shaking her head, Lenore said, “Well, why didn’t you say so, sweetheart? I’ll start cooking. I’ve got all the stuff for your favorite meal.” 

As she took the empty teacups into the kitchen, talking about old Scottish family recipes, Fitz pulled his hand away from hers. Jemma’s heart skipped a beat until he took hold of the back of her chair, scooting it closer to him. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear. He circled his arms around her and pressed soft kisses to her cheek.

“Please don’t go,” she said, burying her face in the side of his arm. 

Fitz shook his head against her hair. “Never.”

\-----

The tension seemed to ease over dinner, everyone less on edge as their stomach filled up. After a final spot of tea, Jemma could feel the nerves start to settle in again, the distinct feeling of restlessness. “Would you mind if I took a shower?” she said to Lenore. “After traveling all day, I feel like I need to wash up a bit.”

“Not at all, dear.” The smile she gave Jemma was genuine, perhaps the first true one in hours. “The tap can be a bit finicky, but do wait for it. There are fresh towels on the rack.” 

Nodding, she went to go set her cup in the kitchen, stopping to give Fitz a kiss on the cheek before getting their bath stuff from the guest room. While she didn’t feel particularly grungy—Jemma had known grungy and a day on the train was not that—she knew that Fitz needed some time alone with his mother and she needed some time to not be with the two of them. They tended to take showers alone anyway—sometimes. Unless they could get away with doing it together. She mused that it probably should occur to her that doing even simple tasks like this with him should worry her, but it didn’t.

Luckily, the shower did its work and she felt better afterwards. The water pressure was just right and there was a seemingly endless amount of hot water; she had told herself that she would never take hot water for granted again and so far, she was living up to that promise. She slipped into her night clothes before starting to towel dry her hair, hoping she could get Fitz to agree to braid it that night. He rarely disagreed; it always felt so good to have his fingers tangled up in her tresses and usually ended with them fully tangled in each other. 

As she opened the door of the bathroom to let the steam out so she could use the mirror, she heard what seemed to be the end of an argument. “Mum, please, I told you that I would call Dr. Hall!”

“Leo, I just don’t understand! I have room for you right here, it would be so much easier for you to find the right position if you lived here where you went to school, where they know of you and your degree, where you still have contacts.”

Jemma’s heart clenched in her chest and she had to hold on to the vanity. This hadn’t come unexpected—Lenore had almost lost her son, of course she would want him home, Jemma had fully anticipated this. She wondered if Fitz had too, and if this was the reason that they had been in the UK for over a month before making this trip. 

“I understand that, but we are already settled in Sheffield. Jemma’s parents live there and Jemma—”

“So what about Jemma?”

Pressing her palms to her face, she took several deep breaths and reminded herself that there was nothing personal about this. “They weren’t there,” she recited quietly. “They weren’t there, they have no idea.”

There was silence from the front room before Fitz said, “Do not take that tone about her.” Jemma had never heard him angry; he had bickered with Hunter on the ship and she knew what he was like when he was frustrated, but before now she didn’t know what he sounded like when he was truly angry. It was soothing and terrifying in equal parts. “Don’t ever talk about Jemma that way, Mum. I can just as easily walk out that door and not come back.”

“Leo—”

“She saved my life. She is the _only_ reason I made it home. I love her, Mum. She makes me smile and laugh and I don’t know what I would do without her. I wouldn’t be anywhere without her.”

Jemma felt her heart dislodge from her throat as Lenore sighed. “That’s not healthy.”

Laughing humorlessly, Fitz said, “Mum, I saw people eat each other. I was terrified out of my damn mind every day. The world isn’t healthy. Being with Jemma is the only time I think I might be okay again.”

“Oh, Leo.” There were sounds that Jemma thought could be hugging and she picked up her hairbrush to quickly work her way through her tangles. After she hung up her towel, she made her way into the guest room. She double checked that the window was locked, pulled their trusty revolver out of her duffle and stuck it under the mattress before climbing into the bed.

Fitz joined her a few minutes later, stripping down to his boxers before climbing in. He stroked her cheek, then kissed her slowly. Jemma reveled in his touch, wrapping her leg around his. Nuzzling her neck, he said, “How much of that did you hear?”

She stared up at the ceiling and sighed. “It’s understandable that she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you.” He pulled her tightly into his arms. “And it’s not understandable.”

“She thought she’d be getting her son back and instead she got me.” Jemma wrapped herself around him, pressing her face to his chest. “Mums tend to hate their sons' girlfriends anyway, let alone mums who thought their son was dead and now the girlfriend is stealing him to England.”

“I told her it was just a visit.”

Jemma laughed against his skin, but instantly sobered. “Plus, she thinks we’re too close. Too needy.” She licked her lips. “My parents think so too. I’ve heard them talking.”

His hand ran up her back underneath her shirt, seeming to count ribs and vertebrae as he went. “Maybe. Maybe it’s okay though.” His hand settled at the side of her ribcage where her heart was, as if he could feel it beating through her skin. “When I’m away from you for too long, I worry about you and about me and I think of all the things that could’ve happened and I just—”

“I know, I know.” She leaned her head back enough to kiss him, his entire body relaxing from the lightest touch, then growing tense for an entirely new reason as the intensity grew and he licked his way inside her mouth. Jemma was breathing heavy when he moved to kiss her neck instead. “I feel the same way, you know. We stick together and nothing bad will happen.”

He sighed at her agreement. “Exactly.” Tangling up his fingers in her wet locks, he raised an eyebrow at her. “You want a braid?”

She smiled at the offer, but shook her head. “Just hold me.”

Fitz did just that, wrapping his arms around her and placing gentle kissing along her jaw, neck, and collarbone while she threaded her hands through his hair. “Do you think it would be the same?” she said, and the pain of the last few months leaked into her tone. “If we had met under different circumstances?”

The next kiss he pressed to her skin was hotter, meant for her to really feel it. “I would still love you.” He was insistent and he pulled one of her hands from his hair to hold it tightly. “But no, I don’t think so.” Jemma stared at him, blood cold, but she forced herself to nod. “I think if we had met under any other circumstances, I wouldn’t worry about losing you every second of the day. I wouldn’t need to have you around all the time.” He raised their joined hand to push a lock of hair behind her ears. “But I would still love you just as much. I will always love you.”

“Do you think it’s wrong, that we love each other this way?” she said, a hint of desperation in her voice. “Because I don’t!” she added quickly. “I don’t think anyone else understands what we went through, what could have happened, where we would be without each other. No one understands when I tell them you saved me.”

He shook his head and kissed her slowly. “It’s not wrong. It’s not wrong.” His words were thick with emotion and she clung tightly to him with her whole body. “It’s just who we are now. It’s who we are with each other and that’s...that’s who we should be.” Corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile, he said, “They’re just going to have to get used to it.”

She felt herself relaxing under his affirmation and for a long time, she was able to lie there in his arms without any overwhelming fears. “You know,” she said casually, “it’s fine with me if you get a job here.”

“Jemma…”

“No, it is.” Glancing up to meet his blue eyes, she said, “We could live here. I mean, not here in this flat with your mum, but if you get a job in Glasgow, I could find something to do here. I bet they need teachers in Glasgow, I’d figure something out.”

Pressing his lips against the hollow of her throat, he hummed. “I could mention you to Dr. Hall. Maybe he knows of an opening for a biochemist.”

She shook her head. “No, Fitz, I’m not—I’m still not ready. Not…not after what happened.”

“Alright, I get it.” He kissed her gently. “But I will talk to Hall tomorrow about me. And whatever happens, we’ll be there together?”

Rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone, she smiled. “Always.” Then she eased him down for another kiss, happy when it too turned passionate, his desire for her evident in the way he kissed her and the way he pressed his hardening erection to her leg. She pressed her hands to his bum to encourage him, sighing into his mouth. 

As he reached under her shirt to rub her breast, she broke away from the kiss, panting. “You know, this place is…it’s quite small.” Biting back a cry, she added, “Your mum is going to hear us if we have sex.” 

He looked at her seriously. “That is a chance I am willing to risk.”

After helping him take her nightshirt off, she said, “Might actually make her like me better.” At his surprised look, she grinned. “You know, if there’s even the smallest chance of grandbabies.”

Pursing his lips, Fitz nodded. “That is actually a distinct possibility.” Then he fell to his side, pulling her in for another kiss as she giggled. 

That night, Jemma fell asleep in an unfamiliar bed in Glasgow. But she slept as soundly as ever in the only safe place she knew: Fitz’s arms. 


End file.
